Shimmy down with the Hotch?
by Ashbear02
Summary: Contains Tequila, Dancing, and a very very confused Derek Morgan.


It was Derek Morgans 33rd birthday, and he glared at himself in the dirt smeared bathroom mirror wondering just what the fuck he was doing. He'd dragged the entire team out with him in hopes that he'd escape the black cloud that turning _33_ had invoked. But he'd failed, and now he'd spent the past ten minuets standing in a horrifically dirty bathroom staring at himself, wondering just how this year would go.

Morgan wasn't sure what he was expecting to find when he got back to the table, but Hotch and Reid both missing wasn't it, he felt himself pout before turning to Penelope. "Where's Hotch and Reid?"

She raised her eyebrows, "Well, before I tell you, guess who got the worm?"

Derek groaned, "Please tell me not Reid."

"Not Reid." She smirked.

Derek blinked slowly, "Not Reid?"

"Nope." She shook her head, "Hotch."

Derek relaxed, "Oh thank go-" The smug look on Penelope's face made him pause as she deftly pointed towards the dance floor. "What the fuck?"

Reid had rules for himself whenever the team dragged him out to bars. The first was to only take 2 shots, never more than that because he was well aware of just how badly he held his alcohol. The second was to leave as early as possible, because frankly he didn't enjoy the bar scene that much. So when he'd been dragged to what was possibly the loudest bar ever, and forced to sit and watch Hotch get into a drinking competition with JJ of all people, he'd followed those rules implicitly and stayed only as long as it took for Morgan to disappear into the bathroom.

Or at least that had been the plan; Garcia was in the middle of telling Prentiss something incredibly hilarious, Morgan was in the bathroom, and Will had dragged JJ off somewhere to commiserate her loss. So he'd thought it was the perfect time to slip away.

It wasn't.

He'd began making his way awkwardly through the crowd toward the door when a very familiar voice said, "Where ya gooooin'?"

Even through the slight drunken drawl Spencer would know that smooth voice anywhere, and as arms wrapped around his waist Spencer swallowed almost painfully. "Hey Hotch, I'm just going home now."

"But it's a _party_ Spencer, you need to learn to relax. Why aren't you dancing?"

It appeared that as touchy as Hotch was sober he was obviously 10 times worse when drunk considering how he'd manged to wrap himself around Spencer's frame. He could feel the other mans breath against his neck and Spencer was suddenly painfully aware of the unspoken attraction he'd been fighting since the first time he'd seen his boss. "Uhm, wait what?"

Hotch's laugh was low and made Spencer squirm, "No really Spence, you should dance."

"Um, Hotch I don't know how to dance." Spencer finally turned to face his obviously inebriated boss who was now frowning at him.

"Everyone can dance! _Everyone._ Now dance." Hotch used his best demanding tone as he stepped back, and frowned at Spencer expectantly. Spencer just blinked at him silently for a few moments, wondering just what the hell Hotch expected him to do. Hotch finally gave a small huff of indignation, before grabbing him and pulling him closer to the dance floor and finally flush with his body. "Like this."

Spencer felt his eyes widen as he felt Hotch's hands drop to his hips, and he gave a small inarticulate sound as Hotch hips gave a very practiced roll against his. "Relax Spencer. That's the point."

Spencer gave a soft gasp, "But-but people can _see_ us."

Hotch laughed, and pulled Spencer even closer. "Screw them. I'm not married anymore, and god knows you aren't. So we're allowed to dance all we want." Spencer gave a supreme effort to not give into that voice, but it really wasn't fair because Hotch slipped a thigh between Spencer's legs while whispering "_Relax_" and Spencer didn't have much choice.

Hotch made a pleased noise, "Yeah, like that. Just like that."

Spencer vaguely heard himself whimper as he felt Hotch begin to roll his hips again. But then he was lost to sensation and the music, which was just as potent a sensation as any drug. He came back to himself with a jolt when he felt Hotch's hands squeeze his nonexistent butt while sighing something Spencer didn't comprehend into his ear. "Holy shit Hotch! We...what the...what are we doing?"

He briefly tried to pull away but Hotch growled and pulled him back. "We're _dancing_. Now _relax_ please."

Spencer shook his head vigorously, "No! We shouldn't be doing this."

Hotch pulled back, and Spencer was shocked to see the hurt look on the older man's face. "You don't want to dance with me?"

"No! I mean yes...I mean..." Spencer shook his head and grabbed Hotch's shoulders to pull him back, hesitantly laying a kiss on the drunk man's cheek. "We can dance Hotch." His boss made a low contented sound and wrapped his arms back around Spencer's waist. He sighed and let himself go in the music again.

This couldn't end well, but even knowing that didn't prevent Spencer from allowing the older man to press kisses along his neck. He sighed softly from the pleasant feeling, and later he'd blame the few kisses he littered along the other man's face on the little amount of alcohol he'd allowed himself.

But Spencer forced himself to jerk back when the older man caught his lips, only to be faced with the wordlessly hurt look again. He sighed but managed to resist temptation and pressed an almost shy kiss against Hotch's temple instead, he caught sight of a visibly shocked Morgan and a smirking Garcia.

A smirking Garcia with her camera phone trained on both of them.

While Hotch was dancing with him.

While they were dancing.

Even as most of him went almost frantic with panic, a small portion of his mind was wondering how much chocolate he'd have to bring her to bribe her into saving him a copy of whatever photo's and/or video she'd taken.

Spencer forced himself to pull away completely and only shook his head at Hotch's vehement protests, "Come on Hotch, let's get you home."

It seemed even an extremely drunk Hotch was stronger than an almost completely sober Spencer Which was proven when the other man pulled back against him again with no problem and cupped Spencer's now fairly obvious erection with a softly growled, "Don't tell me you don't want it because I know you do." Which caused Spencer to nearly expire on the spot.

Not that Spencer didn't _want _his hand there, quite the contrary he'd had wet dreams that were frighteningly similar to his current reality. But Spencer was far too aware of the fact that they were in _public_ with a _camera_ trained on them and probably catching every moment of this.

So Spencer did the only thing he knew for certain would get a drunk Hotch to allow him to take him home; he let his body go lax against his boss' solid form. He noted with a detached sense of shock that he wasn't the only one interested in what was happening, but forced himself not to think about it and allowed his head to loll against Hotch's shoulder and thrust into the hand cupping him.

"I _do_ want it. But we can't do it _here_." Spencer had never seen a drunk man leave a bar so fast in his life, and was vaguely impressed with how steady Hotch was on his feet even when he was drunk.

Penelope gave a small moue of protest as she watched Hotch and Reid leave the bar but quit recording and put her phone back in her purse. Morgan felt floored, he swallowed the lump in his throat before shaking his head vigorously. "Should we go after them? Hotch um...seemed really out of it. Reid might need help..."

Penelope snorted, "Hunny-buns I think our Spencer is going to be taking _very_ good care of our fearless leader tonight. And it's about time."

"About _time?" _Morgan stared at her incredulously, as she nodded distractedly.

"Yeah, don't worry we all know you were oblivious. That's why you're not in on the pot."

"There's a _pot?" _ Morgan felt incredibly idiotic as she sent him a soft smile and a pat on the cheek.

"Oh of course, JJ just came into a lot of money. Although I think she cheated but all's fair in love and war I suppose."

Derek Morgan really needed another drink.

Somehow Spencer managed to get Hotch back to his apartment, and onto the couch with little drama. Of course there had been a slight fuss about Hotch wanting to go to bed and do things that were definitely not sleeping. Which had somehow lead to Spencer being pulled down onto the couch as well as into the older man's lap and having his shirt half ripped off.

Having Hotch's hands on his bare chest had been both a blessing an a curse, like many things he'd dreamed about for so long it was better in reality. And it meant Spencer had been too lost in the sensation to protest much until one of the skilled hands had moved to his belt.

Which had jerked Spencer back to reality with a undignified squeak of protest, of course that didn't deter the older man from slipping a callused hand into his pants and latching onto the side of his neck with teeth. It hadn't taken long under this treatment before Spencer was panting and gasping his release.

Hotch let go of his neck before licking what had to be a visible bite mark, and wiping his hand off on the remnants of Spencer's shirt. He'd lent back with a smug smile and Spencer had almost felt too boneless to move, but eventually he looked up from where he'd burrowed his face against Hotch's neck and realized through the fog that had taken over his brain that it was only fair he do _something_ in return for Hotch.

Which is how Spencer had ended up on his knees situated firmly between Hotch's thighs and deftly giving his boss a blow job. Something he'd never had the chance to do before, but something he'd always wondered about and something he'd definitely always wanted to do for the older man. The taste hadn't been the most pleasant thing in the world, and Hotch had a horrible habit of bucking his hips and taking Spencer off guard and causing him to choke slightly. But the hands grasping his hair tightly and the breathless way Hotch was sighing his name over and over and over more than made up for the discomfort.

When Hotch came he'd leaned back with a smug smile, and watched his boss slowly melt back into his couch half asleep. Then it'd hit him exactly what he'd done and he choked, before looking back up at the now snoring Hotch.

Spencer Reid had just taken advantage of his drunk boss, it went without saying that he was in deep shit. But in that moment he shook his head and forced himself to grab one of his spare blankets and a pillow for the older man. After covering him with the quilt and coaxing the pillow under the older man's head Spencer allowed himself to watch the other man sleep for a while softly fingering the obvious hickey he now sported.

He dragged himself to bed not long later and forced himself to sleep, he'd face the shit when it came but for now he was content to dream.


End file.
